Homo Avatarius: ( Your Consciousness is an Alien ) (13 page)

Relativity

Shadow is faster than light, because when light hits an object, the shadow is already there: it just hasn’t been revealed yet.

We can perceive the shadow before it dissipates as we approach the speed of light and experience the future.

When we reach the speed of light, we can’t perceive anything since there won’t be any shadow.

But if we’re able to pass the speed of light, we can remember the future (the events appear in our mind’s eye first, then they happen), and we will also remember the future when we return to the speed of light.

In brief, if we directly look at reality, we remember. If we look at its shadow and grasp what it is, it becomes “the present.” If we look at the shadow and can’t figure out what it is, then it is “the future.”

…
[STOP]

Limbo

“
Welcome back, sir.”

“
Please tell me. Is there a problem with the system?

“
No, sir, I’ve checked and tested everything many times; it looks ok. So, how was your experience?”

“
Amazing. If I hadn’t witnessed it, I wouldn’t believe it. Such a large number of people killed like insects. A handful of soldiers destroyed such a huge army.”

“
That handful of soldiers achieved more than that, sir. They ended the Incan empire, which was bigger, older, and more populated than the one they came from. Massive cities were destroyed. Millions of people died, and tons of valuable mines were captured. You killed them all in order to stop them from sacrificing men for their religious beliefs.”

“
We really killed them all?”

“
A species composed of pale blues killed more than you did.”

“
What do you mean?”

“
Diseases, especially the smallpox that you brought with you, destroyed 95% of their population. Death followed wherever you went and killed almost all living beings. Those who survived were assimilated. It was a massive continent, hosting millions who had lived in isolation since the ice age. But overnight, almost all those civilizations were destroyed.”

“
So this made room for the new ones who had the desired characteristics?”

“
It’s similar to what happened in Australia. Before immigration, there were no predatory cat species in Australia. Birds evolved to walk on the ground without any fear. When the cats came by ship and escaped into nature, they killed the unprotected birds. Now, none of those species exist. Wherever they go, human beings also kill or allow to die all animal species except the tamed ones or the ones that serve them. They also try to cause the extinction of all humans except those who serve them or won’t be a potential threat. It is in their nature.”

“
As far as I understand it,” I said, “there is a genetic intervention spreading throughout Asia, Europe, America, and other continents, starting from North Mongolia. This intervention will happen through slowly affecting the natural evolutionary development and expected mutations and accelerating the process of selection.”

“
Sir, you have begun to regain your abilities; you have also begun to solve the system easily. What you are saying is almost right. The main aim is to lead the evolutionary development, which would take an undesired shape if left as is. The goal is to provide the species with the desired characteristics. It is like human beings’ unconscious efforts to change the process of evolution by taming animals. If you want to get more yarn, you let the wooliest sheep live and kill the others or prevent their breeding. By only producing those with desired characteristics, you continue the bloodline.”

“
If there is such technology and foresight, isn’t a direct genetic intervention easier?”

“
Sir, your opportunities define your style of work. You can only work from your present options.”

“
Is that the soft way of saying that we can’t do it?”

“
We are at the final stage, sir. You will get all your answers soon, and, if there is no problem, you will get all your old abilities back, together with new ones.”

“
Final stage? Who will I be?”

“
Wilhelm Reich, an extraordinary Austrian psychiatrist.”

“
Again?”

“
Yes, sir. Can we start now?”

“
Yes, let’s finish it.”

Wilhelm Reich

Typically, the things you value most are the things you have taken for granted, but you do not realize their value until you have lost them. I learned much later that I had everything I wanted in my early childhood. There, on a large and productive farm near a mountain village, I grew up dreaming and playing in nature, experiencing the seasons as colorful feasts. Tame animals were everywhere, and every spring there were new offspring to bring up. Abundance and fertility were all around me.

I was blessed with a beautiful mother and a father who was surly but omnipotent.

Servants were at my disposal. The cooks made delicious meals. A butler fulfilled all of my wishes. And I had many siblings to share my joy. With such pastoral bliss, I happily spent my childhood without leaving the farm.

When it was time for my education, a governess came to our home and added new lessons to the reading and writing my mother had already taught me. At the time, farm life had begun to seem too narrow for me, so it was impressive to learn from somebody from the outside. My governess told me about incredible things and had me read exciting books. When she told me she was getting married and had to leave, I dealt with my aggressive behavior by returning to the tender embrace of my mother.

In order to prevent another emotional trauma, my father brought in a male academic from far away. He was a very different man, tall and young with blond hair and a unique style. He knew a lot and taught me many mysterious things. I soon looked forward to each lesson.

His father was an archaeologist participating in excavations in Ottoman lands and beyond. I would make my tutor tell me about the ancient Sumerians and the civilizations they established and would always listen to him with the same excitement. He would tell me about sky Gods who came from very different planets and stars that we couldn’t even see with our eyes.

As he explained it, their planet, Merodach, came from an unseen place every four to five thousand years to rule the people. Their gods fought in space, helped people, and presented a wealth of knowledge when they returned. When necessary, they bred with people and protected the lineage of the children born to them. When they got angry, they used disasters to kill the ones they didn’t want.

My teacher brought me all the books and texts on this history and tried to explain the things I didn’t understand. I began looking at the sky and the stars with a different perspective. I dreamed of my own stories with my own aliens. Sometimes, in my dreams, I was friends with them and destroyed my enemies. Sometimes, I rebelled with the people and fought against the aliens. I promised myself that I would live until the next time the aliens came, no matter how old I was.

My teacher was an impressive man. You either loved him or hated him. First, I chose to love him, but when my mother made the same choice, I began to hate him. At first I denied what I saw in my mother’s gaze and behavior, but, when my mother and teacher started to be alone in a room after telling me to read or do my homework, I could no longer remain in denial. Once, I “accidentally” went into the room and faced the very truth I knew but didn’t want to know. From that moment on, my nights were filled with dreams of killing archaeologists and their children together with the alien gods.

At the age of 12, out of anger at my teacher, I gave up my interest in aliens, and revealed my teacher’s betrayal to my father. I never knew someone could survive such a bad beating and run away as fast as my teacher did when he was thrown out the door. I savored my revenge, no matter how short it lasted. My mother responded with screams at first, then denial, and finally silence. We didn’t talk, not that day, or the next. No one looked at each other, and we always found an excuse to be apart.

But the biggest disaster was still to come. One day, we found my mother lying on the floor surrounded by empty bottles of kitchen chemicals. She had consumed them hoping for a quick death, but it was just the beginning. For days, we watched in horror as her faced twisted from the burns and her purulent wounds leaked blood. Our nights were made unbearable by the high pitched sounds coming from her roasted air-tube. My mother paid, yes, but she also made us pay, without uttering a word. When she finally passed away she saved her last mortified glance for me.

After that, everything was gray: sometimes light, sometimes dark, but always gray. My father and I would catch each other’s eyes, but we wouldn’t look at each other. We would say a little, but we never talked. I registered in a school away from home and buried myself in books at every opportunity. My father was never the same again and he was seldom at the farm. A few years later, under the pretext of fishing, he went up to a cold river in the mountains. There he tortured himself in the cold until he got sick. It was a suicide of exposure. So, at 17, I became the head of the household.

The Great War began soon after. I easily bought into the hysteria and joined in the nationalist rhetoric. I looked forward to my own chance to join the military. I wanted to get away from everything and the allure of adventure made me long for my own uniform. When the Russians invaded our town, we sold whatever we had and went to live with our distant relatives in Vienna, never to return. After finishing school, I was finally accepted into the army as a lieutenant, and, after some short training, I was sent to the front.

The one who draws, but can’t be an artist

In the crowded, dark railway carriages, we buried ourselves in our coats and used our bags as barricades against the cold. We were going to a place we didn’t know to kill people we didn’t know. It was a community of dull gazes, stiff movements, and identical outfits. As the journey grew longer, we grew silent, didn’t move without orders and watched as our personalities and individuality disappeared. The days bled together and the scenery remained the same, as though we were moving in an endless circle.

When we arrived, autumn was turning to winter. Gray covered the mud and rain pelted the endless war debris of dead horses and overturned cars. A thick cloud of gunpowder hung in the air and left an acrid taste in our mouths. Everything—including the faces of the people—was rusted and muddy.

I entered a trench that was twice my height and struggled through the mud until I came face to face with the captain. I saluted and informed him I was ready for duty. It didn’t affect him. He remained silent and seemed focused on something far away. To him I was invisible. The man next to him, who seemed to be his aide showed me to a place in the trench and murmured something like, “Stay here.”

I knelt, turned to a pair of dull eyes next to me, and said, “Hi, my name’s Wilhelm.”

“
Names have no use here, son,” said the one beside me after a long silence.

“
I…well…,” I muttered before keeping quiet.

“
Stay alive,” he said, “and don’t get in the way. That’s enough.”

“
Nothing else?”

“
Kill if you can and if you get injured, try to die as soon as possible,” he added with a grin before once again growing silent.

Exhausted, cold and alone, I tried to sleep right there in the unknown. When a skinny soldier woke me by poking my foot and offered me a bucket of slurry, I took it and wolfed it down, then went back to sleep to escape my surroundings.

Soon I grew used to the whir and crash of the artillery, but I woke up when I heard those sounds accompanied by the crackling of rifles. It was the enemy and they were getting closer. The order was given for a counter-offense, and I readied myself to go over the top. I took my bag off my back and set it on the ground but immediately realized that no one else had done the same.

Trying to keep up with the others, I approached the slippery wooden ladder and waited for the order. My eyes frantically scanned everyone to take it all in. I wanted to tell them I had never been in a war, had never been shot at, and had never shot anyone, but I knew there would be no sympathy. I gulped when I saw the master sergeant slam someone against the back wall of the trench, shove a pistol into his hand, and yell, “If anyone comes back to the trench, shoot him!”

Then the whistle. With shaky knees, I stumbled out of the trench. As I took my first steps, I tried to look around, hoping to see the scene before me, but in the impermeable darkness, I could only see a few meters ahead. All I saw were the backs of my comrades, glints of barbed wires, muddy holes, and flashes from the weapons. I was startled when I heard my own voice in the screams and cries of the night. I ran blindly forward, screaming, and, when I stumbled, I rose again and struggled forward.